


No Matter What

by chlare



Category: Angel: the Series, House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Community: jossverse_bb, Crossover, Happy Ending, How They Met, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-05
Updated: 2011-07-05
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:04:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlare/pseuds/chlare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet a Wesley who never stayed in Los Angeles after he set things to rights in season 4.  He meets a nice doctor on the East Coast and settles down.  All that goes to hell when Wes' life collides with Wilson's in a way that causes Wes to have to turn to his L.A. family for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Warnings:** Passing mentions of adultery, self-hurt, alcoholism, sexual content  
 **Spoilers:** All of Angel the Series, probably only the first few seasons of House, M.D.  
 **Disclaimer:** I don’t own the boys or their world. Not intended to be infringing on anyone’s rights or profits. _House, M.D._ belongs to David Shore  & co., _Angel the Series_ belongs to Joss Whedon  & co.  
 **A/N:** Written for the 2011 [](http://jossverse-bb.livejournal.com/profile)[**jossverse_bb**](http://jossverse-bb.livejournal.com/) challenge. Also, huge thank you to [](http://kayama.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kayama.livejournal.com/)**kayama** for building this crazy world with me. :)

**Link to art:** [by the awesome, excellent, wonderful](http://whiskyinmind.livejournal.com/945093.html) [](http://whiskyinmind.livejournal.com/profile)[**whiskyinmind**](http://whiskyinmind.livejournal.com/)!

 

* * *

 

 

The tumbler hit dark pine with a loud clatter. He'd promised himself this wouldn't happen again. He'd _promised_. He felt the slosh of liquid over his fingers rather than actually noticing that the amber whiskey had spilled when it had clumsily bumped the table beside him. He sat stiffly in the half-dark thinking that James was going to kill him if he saw him like this. He had _promised_... But that was before-

A tiny sound tried to spring from his throat and he clutched the wet glass tighter.

He wouldn't, he wouldn't, hewouldn'thewouldn'the _wouldn't_ -

Wes sucked in a breath to steady himself and picked up the phone finally, the small beep of the buttons solidifying his resolve the more numbers he pressed. He wiped his damp hand on the deep amber leather of the armchair James had bought him for his fortieth birthday. James had hand-picked the leather, choosing the supplest, most buttery feeling bolt, custom-ordered the chair built to suit Wes' longer legs. The color was so dark it was almost mahogany or a lovely dark-cane rum color, Wes noted now. They had made love in the chair the same night, James' skin glowing with the firelight behind him while he straddled Wes' hips with abandon. His skin, his eyes, the sheen of moisture on his muscles... Wes could recall the scene so clearly.

Wes doubted he would ever forget the soft whisper of words that James had said that night. _I love you. No matter what. No matter the scars, no matter the ghosts. I love you, Wes. Always. I'm yours and you're mine._

That had been a few years ago already, he noted idly. They would have been coming up on eight years together this spring... Wes clenched the glass tighter and prayed the ringing down the phone would just bloody well end so he could get on with this. He stuffed the memory down tight, his grip on the glass quickening even further without his notice. The pressure of his fingertips soon grew enough that it shot from his hand, skittering across the smooth wood of the small table and shattering on the unforgiving planks of the floor.

He cursed under his breath but didn't move, his hand only curling into a solid fist as if he might hold onto himself, unlike the ill-fated tumbler.

There was no one else he could call. He wished there were any other alternative, any other way to get James back. If there were anyone else... If this were about anyone else...

When the ringing finally gave way to air and the hurried grunt of, "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless," in greeting, Wes felt himself close to unraveling those old memories colliding with the new, but he forced his voice into a cold calm.

"Hello, Angel."

\- - -

He'd been hunting a Swerack demon along the Eastern Seaboard feeling like Los Angeles might just be behind him when he'd been blindsided by a nest of vampires – something that made him feel like he was a green rogue demon hunter all over again. It had been a close thing, but he'd actually manage to dust them all; only his abdomen didn't really make it out of the fight.

Eventually, Wes had lurched into Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital with half of his blood in his hands and half in a spare towel he had for just such situations. It was pure chance that a well-dressed WASP of a doctor had seen him bumbling across the parking lot and dropped his briefcase, running to catch him before he could crack his knees on the ground. He'd been in that situation before, too. Only, without the helping hand to catch him.

The hospital was basically a blur, people mentioning surgery, kidneys, spleens, blood loss and wondering how the hell there was so much dust in the wound. That much he'd heard. When he woke up to some regular beeping, and only a slight headache, he decided he must be patched up; it was time to go. After all, he'd never had anything good happen to him in a hospital.

Funnily enough, that same doctor had been by his bedside and was quick to inform security that Wes had really been trying to mug him at the time so he should be restrained now that he was conscious.

That had not put the doctor in his good books.

But the doctor had remained, sitting there with a strange smile on his lips and finally dropping all the charges with barely a wave of his hand when Wes was ready to be discharged and the police were attempting to get a proper statement out of the doctor he now knew as Wilson. James Wilson.

Wes supposed if it hadn't been for Dr. Wilson, he might've kept running for years.

Grudgingly, while he'd been stuck in bed, he and James had gotten to talking and—Well, it had been amazing how James hardly seemed to have said anything at all. He was just so interested and he'd actually seemed like he was listening so all the words somehow started slipping out of Wes, bit by bit. Granted, he wasn't letting loose any deep, dark secrets but it was more than he'd said to any one creature since he'd left California a year ago.

He'd saved Angel, drug him out of the ocean and revived him with his own blood... And then he was gone. His guilt over Connor would haunt him for the rest of his life, but he wasn't going to let it eat at him while staring at the people who he'd thought were his friends.

James, though, he'd somehow made all that anger recede. They'd gone for coffee – tea for himself – they'd gone bowling. They'd gone to museums, gone for walks between patient appointments at the hospital. Wes had even taught James how to play darts - incidentally that was also when James seemed to put two and two together (namely the half-mast erection Wesley hadn't been able to avoid letting James feel due to a rather buxom blonde at the nearest table who'd insisted on leaving her chair out whenever she left her girlfriends, thus cramping them together. There were also a few more lingering touches that had actually been intentional on Wesley's part if not completely...intended in the _groping_ way that James understood them) and he'd awkwardly asked Wes on an actual date.

The date itself? Had been a spectacular disaster, of course.

Wes' tie had been brand new. Blue and green diagonal stripes with some kind of lush, supple texture that he didn't understand how it couldn't be magic, but the saleswoman assured him that it looked perfect with his eyes.

He was on time when he reached James Wilson's condo, a warm glow from the upper windows and a neat little hedge along the front steps. He'd mustered just enough courage so that his ensuing knock on the door hadn't sounded nervous, but there were butterflies swarming and thundering in his stomach and throat. Wes knew this was a monumentally bad idea. He wasn't the sort of man who made it through dating into actual relationships. He knew right behind his heart in that secret lockbox that held all the things about him, that he wasn't meant for the long-term, marriage and two point five children plus a Scotty dog and vacations at the beach. He didn't have that right. But somehow...

He was on James Wilson's doorstep, blushing and wondering what the protocol was for holding hands on a first date. Things he shouldn't be wondering. Yet, there he was. Wondering.

He'd tried to put it into an equation or at the very least an analogy, but it could have been any number of factors about James that were drawing Wes to him.

That he was gorgeous with a smile and a heart to match did not hurt. The man was also smart, witty, determinedly hard-working, and—It was the eyes all over again, really.

Brown, warm, interested, caring eyes. Eyes that seemed to want Wes just as much as he wanted them. Well, not just the eyes. He preferred entire people. Not that he was biased towards those without all their limbs—

Lord, it was a good thing he was not speaking because there was James, smiling, slipping out the door and locking it, seemingly having quite a firm hold on how these date things went.

So that part wasn't so bad.

It was what happened between the doorstep and the car that really screwed things up.

You see, he hadn't exactly informed James of his occupation as a demon hunter. James knew about his side-work as a translator for some of the universities and government branches in the area. He didn't know about the slicing and dicing and flame-throwing.

The Gorvash – he'd later done more research and realized it was a Vorgash, which was why his first attempt at decapitation hadn't done a thing – it came out of nowhere. Wesley should have smelled it, really, but it seemed he'd been too engrossed in the scent of James' cologne and the twinkle of light he'd caught in James' eyes, and so the rumpled, stinking, giant of a beast had lunged at them quickly. It was much more quick than its bulk had suggested to Wes, but he had James pushed over the hedge and out of sight before the Gorvash lunged again.

Thankfully, his car (with his emergency weapons) had still been unlocked and he'd achieved quartering the demon in a swift amount of time after the fruitless decapitation. He didn't know what he might have done if he'd gotten James injured. It was unthinkable.

As it was, the shocked eyes that had been peering over the hedge at him afterwards had been—something he wasn't quite prepared for on a first date.

Wes had sat with James for a long time in the car, James silent, but his hand latched tightly into Wes's. That had certainly dispelled all worries about when and where hand-holding might be appropriate tonight.

"You'll be fine. I'll hunt down the other one tomorrow night. I should go, you'll be safer-"

"Food would be nice." His hand was clasped tightly to Wes' and wouldn't let go of it, not even to drive, although James kept saying it wasn't safe to drive like that. They ate at the pub a few blocks away that had good pizza, James said. Wes insisted on simple and familiar rather than his well-intentioned plans and eventually James let go of his hand to put a few quarters in the ancient jukebox.

"Would it be too forward of me to ask if I could come over tonight?" James had suggested after they'd wrapped up the last few pieces of pizza in foil. James had phrased it as if it were somehow suggestive, but Wesley saw fear nearly every day of his life and he recognized the not very well hidden version screaming on James' face.

"I insist," Wes had said with no hesitation. "I think I even have an extra toothbrush," he said with a sort of lop-sided smile trying to keep things light.

He'd tucked James into his pull-out couch in his simple, well-worn apartment within moments of showing him inside, James' face turning to exhaustion. James hadn't objected to Wes' coddling, merely saying quietly that he would make Wesley breakfast in the morning for going through all this trouble and he'd appreciate it if Wes left his bedroom door open. Just in case.

There had been several conversations over the week after that. Many involving James curled against Wes' side on one or the other of their sofas.

James didn't seem inclined towards any more dates.

Thankfully for Wes' heart, it didn’t seem like they needed any.

\- - -

"He's gone," Wes said, struggling not to let his voice break. The rest of his words sounded like a garbled telegraph to his ears but he gave Angel the quickest synopsis of the situation that he knew how to with all the necessary information before his voice could give out on him without his consent.

He had no doubt that Angel knew exactly who 'he' was. Though Angel had been invited to the wedding, he hadn't deigned to show his face. As if Wes wouldn't get that prickling feeling on the back of his neck when Angel was nearby. It would always be that way, Wes knew. There was simply no shaking Angel once he became a part of your heart. Wes suspected Buffy knew something about that.

There had been a lovely gift inside their house when they got back late and drunk from the reception that night. James had been set to call the police, but Wes had felt strangely calm and...accepted by their guest (invited in by whom, he didn't know, but Wesley was quick to re-cast the spells to un-invite Angel, lest anything went awry someday). The knowledge that Angel had been there, had more than certainly wandered through their things, and yet had left his blessing for the union had filled up a tiny empty spot inside him.

Wes suspected that Angel had been relieved that Wes had found someone, well, because that was Angel. Constantly pushing others away in order to keep them safe. He was, it seemed to Wes, the vampire - wild, dangerous, calculatingly blood-thirsty creature of the night - who was more afraid of you than you were of him. Or even more so and more accurately, Angel's fear of himself was more than any other person's fear of him might be. It was a slippery slope Angel walked, and Wes had never belittled the possibility of Angel's quick descent into darkness, but he also imagined that Angel perceived himself as already having a foot in the doorway and that it was his own force of will that kept him out of it rather than his connections and loyalties to those he loved. Angel would always be at the ready to shove those in his life away at any sign that he might slip and stumble. Which Angel fully expected he would.

So, yes, it must have been quite a relief for Angel to have one less person, one less second to worry about saving if that big day ever came and he had to race against the clock to make sure those in his life were safe. It truly must have helped him to have Wes out of his life.

That didn't mean Wes couldn't hear the broken heart in the back of Angel's silence on the phone.

Angel was like that. When he loved, he loved bigger and harder than even he himself imagined. Possessive to a degree that made him blind to how much he really did care about those in his life.

It was the one thing Wes knew he could count on even after all their falling outs. It was how Wes knew that Angel would help no matter how awkward or painful the situation might be.

\- - -

"I'll be honest, I really don't have that much experience with men," James had murmured a few weeks after that spectacular first date, his fingertips smooth and soft on Wes' cheek, his eyes shy, but his want shining brightly and earnestly.

"I don't mind that at all," Wes had said back, feeling that darker possessive beast in him crawling to the surface and making him feel ridiculously glad that James would be all his. "I'm in no hurry, James." His hand had sat so gentlemanly at James' waist, heat of his fingers seeping through James' button-down.

"What if I am?" James' smile had been so bright, brighter than the fire flickering behind them in the fireplace. It was strange to feel this feeling blooming hot and full in his chest as he looked at this man in front of him. James' questions about 'his' world hadn't stopped, but Wes found that he didn't mind them so much – it had felt good to tell James about his life as if he were finally unburdening himself of decades of secrets. Granted, he hadn't told James all the gory details, but his rapt attention had encourage Wes to say more than he would have told any other...civilian. James encouraged him, too; knowledge was power, he insisted and it seemed to quell some of James' nerves and anxiety about this world that he'd never seen or heard of until now.

It was bizarre really that James had taken to it so easily. James claimed it was due to his scientific mind matched with the magic of medicine – that sometimes patients made it when they shouldn't and others didn't when they should. Wesley suspected it was something a little more macabre than that, but he didn't question something that seemed to work for the both of them. Like right now. James' hand slid down the middle of Wes' chest and a spark lit so hot at the small touch that he found himself aching to feel James' gentle hands on every cell of his skin.

"I suppose I wouldn't object," Wes had teased lightly before covering James' lips with a heat and passion he couldn't seem to put into words.

It was hands and touches, lips and long deep kisses after that, James surprising both of them by pushing Wes to the floor and peeling his clothes off before Wes could get out another word. He'd laughed though and reached for James' clothes as well. He couldn't remember laughing during sex before, he couldn't remember feeling like this either. Like James drew out all the darkness in him with each brush of his fingers. It was as though James soaked it up and it melted away making Wes feel purer, calmer, more real than he had in years.

He'd imagined—No, he'd never imagined that it would be anything like this with Angel. He'd imagined it would be dark, the darkness wrapping around him like a comforting blanket combined with the safety of Angel's powerful body.

But with James... It was nothing like that and Wes felt more safe, more sure and more loved than he knew it ever could have been with Angel.

He felt James' fingertips tracing over his face, and when Wes' eyes met James', he felt a warmth that told him James was memorizing all the shapes and lines, cataloguing them in his doctor's anatomy-oriented brain and then turning them over inside his heart to see what each piece was really made of. Wes let his eyes close, deciding he would let the pieces fall where they may and James could make his assessments whatever they might be. He'd never felt so vulnerable as he had then, James' fingers drifting lower and higher, tracing his bullet wounds, tracing the lurching scar on his throat...

And coming back for more.

It scared Wes. He didn't move away though. Didn't try to stop any of it from happening.

Lord, he had fallen fast and hard.

\- - -

"You know Cordy's in a coma. Still." With Angel it was always full stops. He would have made a great telegraph operator.

"I do still have contacts in L.A., yes, Angel. Who do you think has been sending you those specialists all these years? But we don't have time for this. He has days. If he's not- dispatched already. We don't have _time_ , Angel." No time for the past now. Those days were gone.

\- - -

Wes knew it was time for him to go all those years ago. They had been his family and they had betrayed him. Left him for dead. Angel and the pillow in the hospital... Wes still woke up gasping from those nightmares even with James' solid warmth at his side. Wes had done his last good dead of pulling Angel out of the ocean and he'd left. It didn't mean he hadn't had misgivings, that there weren't days when he wanted to come crawling back to Los Angeles. Even after he met James, there were still days when he missed them, his family. Or the people he'd thought were his family.

He'd tried. Tried to cut out the past, cut it off so it wouldn't be an anchor dragging him down...

"You should talk to them. See if they're okay. Not just through your rats or whatever," James had waved his hand.

"They're criminal informants, James, and no I shouldn't. I left that place behind me. They left _me_." They _hurt_ me, they made me this dark creature who doesn't know what's white or black, was what Wes was really thinking.

"Mm." James could make the most infuriating non-commital noises, the manipulative bastard. "Talk to them. Cordelia at least. Gunn? Then cast them aside. A clean break rather than just disappearing without a word. Without knowing." James gave him a look over the top of his medical journal, glasses slipping down his nose a notch. "It's called closure, sweetheart."

Wesley had muttered under his breath and ignored that the conversation had happened. But eventually he came around. Like he always did when it came to James and his unsubtly subtle plots.

\- - -

"You've got plenty of contacts and from what you say, he might not even be here in—"

"Angel, you of all people, do I really have to spell it out for you?

"I am a big, dumb vampire after all. Not people."

"There's no one else. Every resource- every _thing_ I have has been exhausted. There, are you happy or did you need me to beg in writing?"

"Wes..."

"What? Too scathing, Angel? I had thought perhaps that my calling you out of the blue might be enough of an indicator to get it through your thick skull that this was _important_ and something I might actually need your particular help with. You may remember how you were the only one who had the crucial key to the Beast?"

"That wasn't me." Angel's voice had gone clipped and steely cold.

"You know what I meant. Angelus is you, you're Angelus. It's a bit hard to call on him without calling you. Can we please be done with this discussion and move onto the part where I either hang up and get you here or get to L.A. or I hang up and—" _fling myself at this like a kamikaze pilot_ was what he was thinking but didn't voice. He had never felt so helpless in all his adult life. Wes' heart had never been so squarely in the path of a guillotine.

The pause was pregnant, but the words were not lost in the length of the connection. "What can I do, Wes?"

"Thank you, Angel."

\- - -

"Wes! Dinner's ready!" Blankly, Wes heard the call, gleaning from the voice that this wasn't the first time James had uttered the information. The tone was hardly irritated though, it was merely an inquisitive one that said, _have I broken the brain-book barrier, yet, sweetheart?_

Saving his place and padding out to the kitchen, he leaned in to kiss James' cheek and murmured his standard apology.

"Save it, you charmer. You know I've got it all timed out. On a good day, it takes four calls, today you made it a miraculous three, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce." James grinned and tapped a dab of sauce to Wesley's nose.

"So very forgiving of my missteps, my over-worked Dr. Wilson," Wes said, smearing the sauce from his nose onto James' cheek.

"I could say the same for you," James murmured, turning off the stove and looking at him with one of those gazes Wesley felt he was never likely to understand. "All part of the package, sweetheart," James whispered. This man loved him beyond all sanity and reason, foibles and disasters of his past alike. It made no sense, but he held onto it tightly while it was still offered.

\- - -

Wes shouldered his bag at the buzzing, sparkling airport, scanning for the dark eyes and hair he would know in his sleep.

"Wes."

Of course, the bastard would sneak up like a cat.

"Angel."

Wes was probably imagining it but those two words seemed so fully of meaning – a lot of meaning that he didn't want to examine, but a significant amount of speeches, words and feelings, nonetheless.

He dismissed them.

"Any leads yet?" Wes was in full leader-mode, easing his way to the exits with a serpentine grace that would have rivaled Angel's if either of them had noticed. In fact, Wes was trying not to notice anything but his goal—which was interrupted by Angel hand tight on Wes' upper arm before he could stride into the blinding light and heat of a Los Angeles sunset.

"Basement exit's this way." Angel's grip didn't fade until Wes met his gaze.

"Right." He followed Angel thinking that he really had been living a world away if he'd forgotten about Angel's most significant allergy. It was unsettling.

It was unsettling to see that Angel still had the exact same car – the car that Wesley had imagined many times as the site of one of his many trysts with Angel, pants shoved down, cocks rubbing, skin sticking to the worn leather seats, Angel's cool nose at Wes' throat smelling the blood beneath the surface—

Yes, most unsettling. He shook the thoughts aside and swung his bag into the trunk, Angel already inside the tinted darkness of the driver's seat.

"Any leads?" Wesley folded his long frame into the car, shuffling his sunglasses into one of many pockets, picking up the conversation where he'd left off.

"How can you be sure they've taken him here?" Angel pulled into traffic smoothly, Wes' eyes drawn to the eternally strong hands on the wheel. "It's a long way to take a kidnapping."

"I don't know that it's really a kidnapping, per se," Wes rubbed his fingers over the leather of the door. "There's been no demands on me, no request for ransom. James was just gone." Miraculously his voice didn't crack. "Either way, this particular...kidnapping is outside of the police's purview and these bastards know it. They need him here because this must have something to do with you." It always came down to Angel, it always had. "Who else could they use to get to you? Who else close," he nearly spat the word, but restrained himself, "to you has anything that could be enough leverage to get them to lead them to you. As roundabout as that is." Wes pursed his lips and looked out the window rather than out the window. "Everyone knows Connor is guarded to the teeth. Cordy's— I suppose they could have done something with Fred or Gunn-"

"They split. Amicably, but there's no leverage there."

"I am the weakest link." Bitter wasn't the word Wesley would use.

"Everyone knows you've been gone for years. Why now? Maybe they need _you_."  
Wes snorted derisively. The only person that needed him was James. And it had taken him a good many years to even believe that. Sometimes he still didn't believe it.

"You've got skills, Wes. I don't know why you forget that."

"Plenty of people—"

"They don't. Plenty of people don't have your skills. Still the same Wes, still that same bullshit, huh?" Angel's face was impassive.

"It's realistic—"

"It's bullshit and you know that. Guess your doctor hasn't really change you at—"

"Do. Not," Wes said in a tone cold enough to freeze even Hell, "Talk about that which you know nothing of, Angel."

Angel was silent for several long beats. "Even if they did need you, why not make demands? Why not get you in their claws right away and get you to the doctor as soon as possible if they want him to be a lure? Why now? Could be a ritual thing. They might need your mojo to complete it..." Angel was spewing a lot of words. Perhaps he'd been working too much on his own these days.

Wes rubbed his face tiredly. "I checked the biggest rituals that would be coming up. Nothing that requires anything you could specifically contribute. You and your attributes are rather rare after all... There wouldn't be that many rituals ever, much less right now to require you...or me. None that I've found yet anyway. I'll need to stop by some of the local bookshops, of course. Los Angeles has always been a bigger mystical centre. The combination of the Hellmouth and central American mystical and demonic influences as well as the clerics of the Missions-"

"It's late, we're here, Wes. You should rest."

Wes nodded reluctantly. "Only an hour. We don't have time..." he repeated if only to assure himself that there was still reason to keep worrying about running out of time.

\- - -

The hospital was bright and sterile. He had no idea why he'd come here instead of home except that he knew James would have taken him to the hospital anyway. Just in case.

Personally, Wes preferred James' private ministrations. Even if there _was_ blood.

James preferred not replacing the hall carpet every three months.

The elevator dinged and opened onto James' floor. Wes groaned inwardly, remembering that James' horrible friend was also on this floor. Hopefully, their paths would not cross. Wes wasn't feeling up to their usual barbs this afternoon.

Ambling over to the nurses desk carefully – his ankle was killing him, his knee was on _fire_ \- but it turned out that was nothing compared to the sight of James chatting up some buxom doctor-nurse-evil-cleavage-bearing---

Wes snarled and then closed his eyes, pausing at the nearest corner for refuge. He _knew_ about this. He _knew_ about James' past. He _knew_ James' need to be needed, desired, wanted. He had just hoped that it wouldn't stare him in the face—

"Sexy, isn't she? She's new." A familiar voice had come from behind his shoulder where the wall was propping him up. "Bobbi? Or Bambi, Bimbo, who cares. He likes her...bedside manner." Wes could hear House shrug carelessly as he dragged the words out lasciviously. Wes knew this game. House was ever so good at this game of trying to twist the knife and find some chink to break up he and James. House felt it was a fling, even three years in. House didn't believe James could actually be serious about him. In truth, Wes believed the same, but he wasn't about to give House the satisfaction of breaking them up – that would be up to James, not House.

"Bugger off, Gregory," Wes gritted out, his leg really killing him now. Using House's first name made him feel a little better.

Seemed that came out a bit louder than he anticipated, because James immediately looked over at them, sprinting away from the Bambi woman mid-sentence.

"Wes. Wes, fuck." James was pulling one of Wes' arms around his shoulders and towards the nearest gurney. Not a glance to House, not even an apology over his shoulder to the woman for running off in the middle of their conversation. James was too polite not to apologize about that, but—

" _James_ , my knee, stop- Ow," Wes clamped his jaw together tightly and was focusing all his energy on not throwing up from the pain.

"Wes, Jesus, where have you been, how did this happen—It's been three days!" James was in a flutter and Wes knew better than to try and answer any of James' questions when he was like this. He needed to get out all the nervous worry from the last few days and nights. It would bubble up in the following days that much Wes knew, but right now it was best just to let James do what he did best.

Later when they were home, Wes propped on the couch with everything at his fingertips and James smoothing his hand over Wes' forehead for the thousandth time, Wes asked quietly, "She's new?"

"Hmm?"

"The, ahh, woman? You were chatting with?"

"I was chatting...Dr. Maddox?" James' brow knitted. He hadn't even realized he'd done it. Wes' chest expanded in a relief he didn't know he could feel.

"I haven't seen her around your ward; new employee?"

"Bailey Maddox? Oh, yes, she's a new resident, very interested in the kids. She's thinking of specializing in cancers that are prone to hit children," James continued, his voice warming Wes and eventually Wes let his eyes fall closed as James went on about the field. Not about Bailey. James had just needed—well, he'd needed Wes and Wes hadn't been there. He would do better. If James could put up with Wes' excruciating nightmares and anxieties, Wes could handle this. He could make sure James never had to look further than their life together. He could do that. He could be enough.

\- - -

"Alexei's had nothing, Silas was gone, boarded up," Wes said, striding quickly back into the hotel, same old, same old. It was as though the cobwebs were part of the décor. Wes told himself he didn't miss it. That the memories weren't happy or painful. They were just memories.

"Yeah, a couple years ago now." Angel strode out of the office, phone to his ear. Clearly, he was...on hold? Wes arched a brow and flopped down the few scrolls and tomes he had actually managed to scrounge up. He already had several open as he scanned over them, ignoring Angel's sparse one-sided conversation. There had to be something in here. Some demon to raise, some world disaster to call into play with Angel at the center of it. Why else would they take an innocent and completely irrelevant hostage like James? He and James had money, some, but not enough to inspire a true kidnapping. The few proofs of life Wes had received were too raw to be anything from professionals. At least not professionals of the non-magical kidnapping sort. He felt his mind wander to those few messages and the last video. James had been trying not to look terrified, to reassure Wes, but he hadn't bought it for a second. He'd nearly broken down at the sight. Wes had been shaking the rest of the night. There had been _blood_.

That had been the last straw. The abductors said James only had another week. It would be a month by then. Perhaps that was some sign of a purification being complete? Why were they even bothering to contact him if they wouldn't say what they wanted? Anyway, that had been when he'd given in and contacted Angel.

The snap of Angel's phone thankfully pulled him out of his thoughts. He needed to be sharp, not thinking of James. That was the last place his mind needed to be and he knew it even if it felt horrible and cold. He wanted _James_ here...

"Merl thinks he might've heard something about a doctor. Care for a reunion?" Angel interrupted.

"I can't believe he's survived as a snitch this long." Wes was already grabbing his jacket.

"He hasn't. Runs a ridiculous topless bar now. Well, with a lot of muscle surrounding him, considering all the people's he's snitched on." Angel and his coat swirled out the door. Wes actually smiled at the sight. "Oh, and there's bumper cars."

\- - -

"Monster trucks. Really." Wes had arched a brow.

"Really. You don't like them? I can ask House-"

"No, no. I'm sure- Gunn used to watch them on television. I'm sure it'll be interesting."

James snorted. "Honestly, if you don't want to come, I can give the tickets to House. We can do something else this weekend. Something that we'd both enjoy."

"No. James, we'll go to the monster truck rally. I like when you're enjoying yourself. That'll be entertainment enough for me," Wes had said, arms circling James' waist. "And I know you'll pay me back later if I'm thoroughly bored," Wes smirked.

"Cocky bastard," James had murmured, already pulling him in by his tie for a deep, melting kiss.

\- - -

"That was an utter waste of time," Wes growled, shoving the hotel door open, but trying to reign himself in. Research. He could get back to the research.

"It was pretty funny seeing Merl trying to run away from you in a bumper car though," Angel chuckled, shrugging out of his duster.

Wes threw Angel a murderous glare. "Is this all a lark to you?"

"Wes-"

"No, I will not calm down, you prat, this is my partner," he whirled to say something more, to shove Angel possibly, but Angel was already there, solid wall of muscle and Wes was overwhelmed by the flood of everything he'd been holding in. More than anything just then, he wanted to be folded up in those arms and he wanted to sob in frustration, in worry, he just wanted to sob like a child while Angel held him safely.

Instead he stiffened and looked from Angel's chest to his face. "Angel..."

"Yeah, I know," and Angel was in his office, the moment gone.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet a Wesley who never stayed in Los Angeles after he set things to rights in season 4. He meets a nice doctor on the East Coast and settles down. All that goes to hell when Wes' life collides with Wilson's in a way that causes Wes to have to turn to his L.A. family for help.

 

"You—You want to—With me?" Wes had gaped.

"Married. You. Yes."

"But we- You- Are you sure? Can we even?" Wes had gulped and smoothed his hands over the arms of the large chair in attempt to slow his heartbeat.

"We could do a civil union. Not the real thing, but we could do it. I want to, Wes. With you. If you'll have a serial marrier...if that's a word." James had crouched down in front of Wes in order to actually see his eyes, which were currently gazing intently at his slacks as if trying to ascertain the secrets of the universe. "I know it's not a typical marriage proposal, but I thought...I should ask if you'd even want to. I mean, ever, even if it weren't to me." James' voice was soft, one of the rare times of self-doubt. Well, one of the rare times Wes had heard it out loud.

"That's an awfully big decision, James, don't you think? I mean, you've only known me-"

"Four years, Wes. It's been four years, nearly five, actually. I think House is surprised I haven't popped the question before now."

"Don't. Don't do that. Don't belittle this, James, as if this is just some part of your natural progression in a relationship. I'm-- We aren't a joke. Or a punchline." Wes stood jerkily and paced in front of the couch, out of the way of James' reach. "If you feel this is something you're just supposed to do, then you shouldn't be asking at all. If you think this is what I _expect_ you—"

James hands were suddenly holding Wes' face tightly. "I don't and it's not. I told myself when we got together that I wouldn’t ruin this by bringing marriage into the picture. I'm the one who screws up marriages. I wanted it to be your choice."

"And now?" Wes looked away feeling guilty and like he had disappointed James.

"I think none of that matters. None of this has been by the book or expected at all. I want to be with you, marriage or no marriage. I love you."

"I- I love you too, James. I'd—" Wes had taken a shaky breath, "I'd be honored to marry you."

\- - -

He wanted a drink. Good lord, he wanted a drink. Wes glanced in the direction of the cabinet in Angel's office that he knew most likely still held some very nice scotch...

Research for once was getting him nowhere. It felt awful to have his books failing him and all he could think about was that glossy, amber liquid. James might not even be _alive_.

Roughly, angrily, Wes shoved all the books to the floor. _The books, not the books!_ he heard some inner voice yell, but the voices that wanted James, that wanted the alcohol were shouting even louder and he fell on his elbows hard, grinding the heels of his hands against his eyes. What if he failed? He'd failed his friends before, what if he failed James? What if when it really mattered, he failed him?

His body started to tremble and shake. He wasn't going to be able to do this, was he? He would be just as big a failure as his father always expected...

"Wes, I talked to some guys from Gunn's old neighborhood and they noticed one of the buildings in the area tapping into the power grid that never has before—Wes?"

Wes pushed the wetness from his eyes and looked up at Angel, pulling on that calm, serene façade that normally worked so well for him. "You found something? We should go check it out," he nodded in agreement, already standing and absolutely not acknowledging Angel's look at the mess on the floor. "I can try a locator spell if we get closer and still can't find it."

"Wes." Angel's hand grasped his shoulder. "It could be nothing." Angel glanced to the mess on the floor and back to the redness of Wes' eyes. "Maybe you should just stay here, keep looking."

"What?"

"It could be nothing." The unspoken words, _you might be disappointed again,_ hung in the air, but Wes couldn't see them.

"I'm going with you."

"If it's another dead end, there's no point in you holding off on the research stuff for the hour or two we might be gone." Clearly, Angel was trying to spare him from something, but Wes stubbornly shrugged into his jacket.

"And if it _is_ something and they capture you as well, I could be too late by the time I decide you've been gone too long. I'm going Angel." Wes had already grabbed Angel's keys from the lobby counter. "We don't have any idea what we might be up against. The more eyes, the better." Wes was nearly out of the office now. "But if you don't want to go, I'll go on my own." Wes' body was wound up tighter than a spring and he just needed to get moving, to go and leave the mess that was his desk, the mess of his rushing emotions and he strode purposefully to the doors Angel be damned. He just needed...

"Wes- Damnit, Wes!"

Angel moved with a fury and grace that was all his own, a glorious use of movement that had floored Wes since the first time he saw it. His body boxed Wes in before he could reach a door handle and Wes felt his heart lunge into his throat, feeling that something might happen finally, finally after all those years of waiting and wanting. That all of these things in his chest might burble up and he could be free of them, free of this confusion if-

"Don't be an idiot." Wes felt the air rush out of his lungs and he had no idea what it was that he should be thinking or being an idiot about.

Angel's eyes bored holes into him and suddenly Wes felt his breath coming quickly even though he didn't remember having started to breathe again. Angel was also suddenly closer than he'd been a few moments again, his nose right next to Wes' throat as if he had fallen over that messy precipice too, he was there sucking in a breath and-

Then Angel's lips were on his, smooth and questioning and feeling as though he was indulging in something that might keep him alive better than Wes' blood.

"Tell me you don't want this." Angel's voice was silk and midnight, murder and vulnerability. His hands curled around Wes' wrists and Wes' heart rate ratcheted up another few beats. He had never forgotten how dark and endless Angel's eyes were. He'd never forgotten how well those eyes could touch and reveal.

"I..."

It was a moment of weakness, pure and simple. The thoughts stuttered through him and he wanted—Just for a moment, he wanted to give in and give up and _have this_...

"I want..." Wes licked his lips, looking longingly for second at that face that had haunted his life, his dreams, his thoughts for years. Angel felt so close, so reachable... Wes just needed a little... He just needed...

"I want... To go get James," Wes murmured, slipping out of Angel's touch without looking back. Angel's hands and body gave way as if he were merely a figment of Wes' imagination, the silence of his footsteps following Wes out of the hotel.

\- - -

It wasn't that Wesley hadn't had sex with a man before, hadn't touched and licked and fucked a man before, but as he'd stood in front of James back then, he'd come to a small, but significant realization that he'd never truly made love to a man- or to anyone before. He knew now though that was precisely what he'd wanted to do then at that very moment.

James was confident, he was proud of his work and absolutely devoted to his patients as though they were each so _important_. The man was so caring and tender and unbelievably stubborn. His other virtues and flaws had come later but those first few were what had drawn Wes to James so quickly.

James was simple.

He didn't have a fantastical soul to lose, he didn't have darkness breathing down his neck. To Wes' mind, James was pure. Not in a virginal way – James had been quick to inform Wes of the three ex-wives by virtue that he believed People Should Know That About Him, no matter that James did or didn't want to sleep with the people he was telling about his wives. No, James was simple in relation to Wesley's own life. There were no dark secrets tromping around in his closet, his head, or his bed; Wesley felt as sure of that as he did of his own darkness struggling against the light.

James made Wes want to drown in him. To draw long singular strokes of his fingers across James' stomach and trace over the cool metal of his belt buckle. James made Wes want to kiss along inner thighs and backs of knees. Wes wanted slow and lingering and wanted _everything_ from James. Something that he hadn't allowed himself to want in a very long time. Ever, he supposed. Not even with Angel had he allowed himself to think he could want that.

Especially, as there had been no 'with Angel' at all. Part of him knew that this was why there never had been any either. Wes couldn't. He couldn't have that or want that with Angel. There was too much waiting beneath Angel's surface to crawl out and shake Wes out of whatever they might have had. He couldn't then, couldn't now, not with his heart crumpled in his chest after having been cared for so long with sunlight and a gentle touch.

He couldn't take that chance that Angel would...take that away from him. James would certainly never forgive him. And Angel... Angel was Angel. He could never give him the things that James had.

As much as Wes' heart thumped for Angel and held onto him in a very tight, very treasured piece in one chamber hidden from everyone's sight... He couldn't have this. He couldn't give this to Angel. Angel was part of his destiny, his world, his mission, perhaps he was even stuck to a bit of Wesley's soul. They were brothers at best, friends at least and Wesley would never be able to get rid of the fantasies of Angel swooping in on a white horse, Angel pinning him to a bed and never letting him go, but—

This was _James_. His James. James was his and no one else's. There was no one James would be looking to for rescue and reassurance but him.

Now that he knew what it was like to be loved and cherished completely unconditionally, no matter what, there was simply no question.

Wesley rested his hand on the doorframe and smoothed it over the carefully protected leather, watching the lights of L.A. pass them by. He had made the right choice. There was no choice, not really.

Glancing over at Angel's hard profile, Wes knew that there was something in himself that Angel relied on, that Angel was harnessed by. Wes had felt it many times over the years and knew that while he didn't always think his connection to Angel did much good, he felt it was there, that they were more than co-workers, more than friends. Brothers in arms, perhaps even warriors together. What he had done for Angel, he didn't believe no one else couldn't have done it, but he _knew_ somewhere in that tightly hidden piece of his soul, that no one else would have.

Without him, Angel was alone.

But there wasn't any more that Wes could give him when there was nothing Angel could give him back.

\- - -

The warehouse was the standard dingy, abandoned sort in a neighborhood that Wes recognized as being on the outskirts of Gunn's old haunt and he could see the power lines being drawn to the building – that clearly did not belong. They were like tightropes for a circus that had wandered off to be a spiderweb. It wasn't working.

Wes swallowed. It could be a nest, it could be squatters, it could be anything. He determinedly kept himself from looking at Angel. He knew he would only see the beautiful, impassive look of a man hundreds of years old who had a poker face better than a statue. It was oddly calming and he had the strange sense that Angel knew precisely what he was thinking just then. It could be one big, pointless trap.

"I'm prepared," Wes murmured though, pulling his jacket sleeve up to show his mechanized stakes, still no looking at Angel. He also had his guns, but he didn't need to show Angel those. No doubt Angel could smell the gunpowder on him the entire time he'd been in Los Angeles.

"Me, too," and Wes heard that odd, soft sound of Angel's face shifting and shifting back. Wes gave a sad smile. It was still baffling how Angel could make him smile at the oddest moments. He supposed it had to do with how well they knew each other. Wes preferred not to think about the other reason, that those people you love make you laugh or smile for the stupidest reasons or the most inopportune moments.

Wes followed Angel's path inside – vampiric strength made for an excellent battering ram or lock pick – and it wasn't long before they were behind a small knot of people. Wes could almost see the figure in the middle who looked like he could be duct taped to a chair, but Wes wasn't sure of that either. A nearly inaudible whisper from Angel said they were human though. No stakes necessary.

The fight was incredibly anti-climactic once they were sure the aggressors weren't supernatural. Wes was almost disappointed that he could only knock them out as opposed to dusting them. He ended up with a body full of adrenaline even so. Guns were still dangerous after all, even in incompetent hands.

He did manage to get in one very satisfying punch to the man who had tried to use James as a shield during their little skirmish. The crack that resounded in the echoing air was not at all from his hands so much as it was from the coward's jaw and cheekbones. He thought he caught a glimpse of a proud smile on Angel's face when he looked up from that swing.

After that, though, it was all a blur of how to make sure James was safe – and it was James after all, duct-taped to that chair. It looked as though they'd kept him there indefinitely and he was a weak, filthy mess. It didn't stop Wes from kissing him nearly immediately though.

His hands flew with a knife, slicing away the tape, his fingers massaging James' wrists and ankles, attempting to help the return of circulation so that James wouldn't have to be carried. As much as he knew Angel could do it without so much as a twitch, he doubted James would feel...comfortable being carted around as if he weighed nothing. Not to mention Wes' more selfish reason of wanting James close and hanging off of him so that Wes knew he was safe and wouldn't have to worry about James ever being taken from him again.

Angel, meanwhile, had actually kept one of the people conscious – a woman Wes hadn't noticed in the skirmish. Wes scowled, but then understood. Angel intended to give him answers and this was their only avenue of discovery, much as Wes might like to brutalize all their faces until they were pulpy, unrecognizable messes.

"Why'd you take him?" Angel said almost casually. His loom said he was anything other than casual; Wes had to hide a grin.

The woman, small, inconsequential seeming, spat blood from her mouth. Angel loomed closer.

"Fuck off, give me a minute, asshole."

Wes bristled on Angel and James' behalves at the lack of respect. He remained where he was though, as if the kidnapper's words made no matter to him. His hand rested on James' knee where he knelt in front of James' chair, shifting so his back was to the woman. Angel would handle it. Any emotion from Wes would only make the woman more stubborn.

"So?" Angel kicked her, though not nearly as roughly as he could have if the slight change in the woman's breathing was any indication.

"Fuck you," she shouted. "Fuck anyone who knows Wesley fucking Wyndam-Pryce! Go to hell and take him with you!" The woman's voice was filled with utter rage and malevolence. The despair was hiding deeper, but Wes could hear it even without seeing the woman's face. Wes made himself very still, falling back on old habits he'd earned at the hands of his father.

"That bastard son-of-a-bitch! My husband could have retired, could have kept his tenure! But Pryce just had to make him out to be a fraud. My husband was a good man! But now- Now-" Fury radiated from Angel's side of the room and Wes' heart sunk. So it had been his fault. He'd failed again. It was him who'd gotten James into this. He had _hurt_ James. Wes nearly recoiled from James' warmth under his hand. He wasn't worthy to even be in the same breathing space.

\- - -

"He killed himself! He killed himself because of what that fucked up asshole did. He said my husband's life work was a fake. A fake! That he was plagiarist. Head of his department and he had _plagiarized_ everything? Pryce was just a liar looking to get paid!" she screamed. "He _humiliated_ my husband over a few verbs. My son- My son won't even speak and his father is _dead_ ," the last word was choked out of her and Wes could hear Angel moving, possibly restraining the woman. "That monster deserved to suffer. Deserved worse than this-" Wes heard a hard thud and knew that Angel had knocked her out.

Wesley couldn't even bring himself to ask what the manuscript had been even if she'd been conscious. He knew there were consequences to his translation and research at times. That's what he was hired for – to make sure documents were authentic – when he wasn't hunting demons. There had been many university professors he'd been brought in to verify the documents and manuscripts they'd either written or 'discovered.' He knew full well that his findings could ruin people. But this- He could scarcely imagine how he'd done this much damage. The thought that he might have been _wrong_ about the woman's husband, and caused all of this too- Failure, he truly must be a failure, just as his father had always said.

James groaned softly then, just enough sound to snap Wes out of his self-pity. James needed to be taken care of first. Then Wes could begin to make things right.

\- - -

Angel basically tried to make himself invisible in the time that followed. Wes found he wouldn't have noticed Angel anyway, he was too busy, too focused on James.

Once they were back to the hotel – Angel having gone back to round up the criminals and drop them at a police station with a note about a kidnapping case in New Jersey – Wes hauled James upstairs and into a warm bath. James could hardly stand so he was in no position to do anything other than slip into the water and let Wes bathe him as though he were a child. A child who would stare at Wes as though he still couldn't believe it was Wes in between the times his eyes simply fell closed from exhaustion.

Wes had never been so relieved to have James in his sight. He wasn't even sure he believed it wasn't all a dream either. The adrenaline of the night had left him shaking and he wouldn't let himself be more than a few feet from James at a time. It was long into the night before he stopped shaking and succumbed to his own exhaustion.

The next few days, Wes spent with blinders on, only caring for James and nursing him back to health with enforced naps, thick blankets, large bowls of soup and several hundred cups of tea. They went to the doctor more times than Wes could remember even though James had told him it wasn't necessary.

"Wes, please," James rasped one afternoon in his latest attempt to get Wes to join him in bed. Wes supposed he felt that having Wes' arms around him would help. Wes begged to differ. He had done this to James. James shouldn't forgive him. Shouldn't even want Wes near him. "You won't hurt me," he vaguely heard James add as Wes left abruptly to make more tea.

\- - -

"Wesley, shut up," was the next thing Wes truly heard James say. James looked like he was getting angry and he struggled to sit up, still weakened from the malnutrition and dehydration of the months prior. The doctors said he was very lucky to be alive. Also, Wes' fault. "If you don't look at me right now, I am going to kick you," James added. James wiggled himself around until he could grab Wes' chin and jerked it up so that Wes was forced to look exactly where he didn't want to.

He didn't want to see the disappointment, the embarrassment, the plain hatred he was sure was there in James' eyes.

He could feel James glaring at him though, so he opened his eyes and looked back.

"You're being crazy. You can't just rescue me and then break up with me—Hell, you can't even just break up with me! We're not just 'going steady' or something, Wes. You- You- Married me!" James' voice had gotten rather high in the last few moments and he looked entirely flustered and- if Wes had let himself believe it, James looked a little scared. "You can't just unmarry me in two seconds. I should know, I'm the one who's been divorced three times." James reverted to glaring. Wes bit his lip. He thought he'd prepared himself for this. But the hurt in James' expression – which he was trying very hard to cover up – nearly undid Wes' resolve. James continued on with how it had been an ordeal for them both and, well, Wes tuned him out. James wasn't going to change Wes' mind. This was for best. Him leaving James alone was absolutely for the best. This would have never happened if he hadn't been around James. He was making this right.

\- - -

Wes could hear Angel wandering through the hotel. He knew Angel was doing it on purpose – everyone knew Angel could be as silent as a shadow if need be. He was letting his presence be known. If he thought that Wes was going to want to come and 'talk' things out, he was sorely mistaken. As if Wes needed someone else besides James telling him he was being unreasonable, which Wes was sure Angel would do as well.

He had only stayed this long to make sure James was fully recovered and was able to get back on his feet without any hindrance from all of this. Wes owed him at least that. Well, he knew he owed James a thousand times that, but there was no way he could even begin to repay James for this fiasco. He nearly got James _killed_.

"No, you didn't." Apparently, Wes had been talking out loud and Angel had been doing the 'silent as the grave' thing because suddenly there was Angel, leaning awkwardly against the office doorframe and looking at Wes like he _cared_. Which Wes knew he did, but Wes wished that weren't the case at the moment. He wished everyone would stop caring so much, really. He'd made a mess of things and why wouldn't they just _let him take his punishment_?

He stared at Angel with large eyes. "Yes, I did. This was completely my fault. They wanted to hurt him in order to hurt me."

"Kinda succeeded, don't you think? Only now you keep hurting the both of you even though this is all over."

Wes stared at him then down at his hands. "It's for the best. You of all people should know why I'm doing this."

The silence that followed made Wes wonder if Angel had left the room. He looked up finally, only to see Angel sitting in the chair next to his, his hand reaching for one of Wes's. "Of all people, I know that pushing away someone you love is hard- and also stupid when you're not a blood-sucking killer."

"Angel, you aren't-" Wes frowned, but stopped his lecture when Angel gave his hand a hard squeeze.

"This isn't about me. He loves you. You _rescued_ him. You do realize he's not even mad at you, right?" Angel stared at Wes a few moments longer, presumably to see if his words were sinking in. Of course, Wes had noticed James wasn't mad at him. James was like that. Terribly forgiving, to a fault, even. The man had no concept of vengeance. "What do you think he'd be like without you? What do you think you'll be like without him?" Angel's look was a knowing one even though Wes thought perhaps Angel wished he didn't know.

It made Wes' heart lurch a little, seeing those warm brown eyes still trying to do what was best for him even though it hurt Angel to do so. Angel...understood him, he knew. Perhaps not perfectly, but he had always understood enough to simply stay away. Even though it was painful. And _that_ was something _Wesley_ understood. It was something he was trying to _do_ if these two stubborn bastards would just let him!

\- - -

It was two days later that Wes slipped into James' room to say his final good-bye. Surprisingly, James was sitting up on the edge of his bed, back to the door. James had done his crying, he had tried anger, he had tried logic, but Wes had held firm. Today was the day, he had told himself over and over as soon as the clock had turned to midnight last night. That he hadn't slept in days with thinking about this hadn't really registered.

"Jamie?" Wes said quietly from the door. It was early, early enough that he hadn't expected James to even be half-awake, much less conscious and upright. It was a cowardly thing to do, leaving that early, but then again, thinking that he could have something like this, have someone like James was selfish and cowardly in its own right. He was, at heart, a failure and a coward and he had no idea why no one else seemed to realize this.

"Wes. I will keep asking you until we're both dead: please don't do this." James was quiet and he still hadn't looked over his shoulder at Wes. "I love you. I won't stop loving you just because you're not around." Wes could see James' hand fidgeting in his lap, plucking at the blankets and sheets.

"I love you, too, Jamie," Wes murmured, feeling the words wrench out of him of their own accord, the nickname sliding out too as if he weren't saying the words himself. "Look where it got us. You being used as bait and leverage." Wes shook his head even though James couldn't see. "I won't have that happen again."

"And if you hadn't loved me...? I'd be a lonely, ridiculous, angry, old man like House. Would you rather be responsible for that?"

Wes stared at James' back, surprised at how much those words had paralleled Angel's own only a few days before. He felt his resolve tremble at the thought of James alone. James with that same dark fury and anguish as House... As often as he'd felt jealous of House over the years for his closeness with James, he pitied the man more. House had a wound deeper than his leg, even Wes could see that. James couldn't ever end up like that. James didn't even know how to be alone! He wouldn't be alone. He would have House, his other colleagues. He would be fine.

"I know what you're thinking, you're thinking I'd have been fine without you in my life, but from where I sit, I would have gone through one relationship after another until I was too miserable and heartbroken to make myself go through it one more time. I would have ended up exactly like House. Or dead." James' voice sounded truly miserable and Wes suddenly found himself sitting next to James on the bed. He hadn't remembered moving.

"Don't be so dramatic," Wes whispered, as though this would help anything. "You would never—"

"It wouldn't concern you." James said stiffly. "You wouldn't be there."

"This is ridiculous. It didn't happen, you can't just reinvent history—" Wes spluttered.

"What, like you're trying to do right now? How can you do this?" The accusation was deafening. "Why would you ever throw something like what we have away? People go lifetimes without this..." James' eyes were wide, even more hurt than when Wes had first suggested leaving. "You are an idiot, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I didn't marry an idiot." His tone was sad though, barely even that. He sounded like he was giving up. And Wes found that he couldn't stand the sight or sound of James so utterly despondent. Devastated he could deal with; at least then James felt something, but to hear him just give up...

"But now you know what an utter failure I am at protecting you. You'll never feel safe with me-"

"Shut. _Up_." James touched Wes' cheek. "You know I'm a grown man, right? I can protect myself..." James' voice was quiet and gentle. "It's not all up to you anymore. You don't have to shoulder everything alone. We're a team; you're not some rogue whatever off on an adventure with me. We're a _team_. I would've thought that had sunk in by now."

"It never does," a familiar voice from the hallway said. "He's kind of an idiot for how smart he is," Angel said with only a hint of teasing smile when Wes looked over at him, but even an 'idiot' could hear the caring in his voice. "Wes, your taxi's here," Angel motioned over his shoulder with his thumb.

"He won't be needing it right now," James said firmly, looking back at Angel and then at Wes with one last pleading look.

"Right now?" Wes swallowed. Oh, this was worse than him leaving James. James throwing him out- He wasn't sure if he could deal—

"We'll need one when we go to the airport," James said, looking at him clearly and confidently, but his eyes were still waiting to see if Wes would agree.

"Won't need one then either. I'll drive you two," Angel offered.

Always the hero, falling on his sword, Wes thought to himself. Yes, they did still have so much in common even if they were never quite meant to be. He looked over at James and found relief flooding his chest that he wouldn't have to leave him. It would have been impossible anyway.

"Yes, indeed," Wes murmured, softly clearing his throat.

James beamed.

\- - -

The cherry blossoms were in full force, smothering the Princeton air with perfume and fluffs of pink as Wes tucked the postcard into his pocket. Angel's old-fashioned scrawl was a comforting sight, but at the moment, he only had eyes for the man waiting at the car door. The sunlight glinted off the ring on his left hand and Wes couldn't stop the smile growing over his face.

"You're breath-taking," Wes murmured as he snuck a kiss to James' cheek, taking in a deep breath of James aftershave and shampoo. "Let me just drop this in the hall, love," Wes said, waving the small stack of mail towards the house.

He would show James the postcard once they got to the cabin; he would like to see it, Wes was sure. If anything, he had Angel to thank just as much as James for getting him to see what kind of mistake he had nearly made. An added bonus had come with small bits of communication from Angel now. It made Wes heart hurt just a little bit less to know that his old family...was making some small amends. It was mostly one-sided as Angel often sent postcards or other items that wouldn't require a response, but the small notes of how they were all doing were enough.

Wes looked at James a few seconds longer, the smile on his face feeling like a rare treasure to his deprived muscles. "You're not so bad yourself," he heard James murmur from where he was leaning on the vee of the car and the door now. "But hurry up or we'll be driving those winding roads in the dark," James scolded gently, eyes bright and happy.

It was going to be the honeymoon they'd never taken. James said they deserved something even more lavish, but two weeks at the little cabin that James' uncle owned upstate sounded like heaven to Wes – and was no doubt a secret love of James' from the way he talked about it.

The car was packed and ready and Wes gave James a grin before he trotted to the front door. Quickly unlocking it, he stepped inside and dropped the mail on the small table there. He took a brief moment to look at the postcard again and smiled softly. _Tell the doctor I said to have a good trip. You've got the real deal. –Angel_ Just that. Wes tucked the postcard away and slipped back out to his husband. Yes, this was real, and he wasn't going to lose it, he thought to himself. No matter what.

 


End file.
